The Real Hero
by Oasis Blackmore
Summary: Spring Break means parties, new video games, and some unexpected heroics for our beloved trio. Twoshot. T for Teen Partying.
1. Part I

**A/N: A story based on assumptions. I don't know anything about alcoholic drinks or the consumption thereof, but if the plotline fits . . . Anyway, I hope you enjoy Part I of this twoshot.**

**The Real Hero **

**Part I **

The party was great, from the loud music, to the lack of supervision. Sam was enjoying herself immensely, not to mention the fact that she was inadvertently pressed against her best friend Danny, who held onto her flippantly.

Danny was actually having near as good a time as Sam, though he had no idea why standing so close to her would increase that goodness.

Tucker came back with the alcoholic beverages, catching Sam's eye and smirking coyly. "Here's your drink-_tell him_," he whispered in her ear as he handed the pair their drinks.

Danny frowned at them jokingly. "What're you guys whispering about? I'm right here, ya know."

Tucker's grin grew. "Oh, we know," he replied, glancing into his cup curiously.

"Bottom's up!" Sam exclaimed, lifting her cup to the boys before taking a gulp of the bitter-smelling drink.

Danny and Tucker followed suit, laughing. It was the beginning of Spring Break of their junior year at Casper High, and there was no need for caution; it was all about the party.

-------

Sam grinned dizzily, clutching Danny for support. Danny held her around the waist, and, though he was much less drunk than his feminine friend was, the two couldn't keep from tottering a bit on their way out of the house where the party was being held.

"Dannay, this was a grea' night," Sam slurred, smiling up at her best friend as she attempted, once again, to steady her wobbly knees.

Danny agreed with a nod as they neared the sidewalk. "Uh huh." Of course, seeing as he wasn't quite as incoherent as Sam, he was beginning to become worried about how well she would be able to function once they reached the stop sign, at which they were to part and go their separate ways home.

"Denny, where's Tugger?" Sam asked confusedly. Apparently, she didn't recall saying goodbye to him in the house or wishing him luck in getting his brand new videogame at two in the morning.

"Gone," Danny replied tiredly. It wasn't as if he spent much of his time partying, what with his obligations as Danny Phantom and all, and he was rather exhausted from the excitement of it.

Sam gasped. "Where'd 'ee go?" she asked in shock, stumbling somewhat.

"To get his game; remember?" Danny prompted. Maybe he really wasn't as drunk as he had previously felt, or maybe it was the brisk wind sobering him up.

"Oh. I don' remememem . . . ember," Sam replied, giggling faintly at her own garbled speech.

Danny stared at her. He couldn't let this mess of a Sam walk home by herself. "I think I should walk you home," he suggested, surprised that his three cups of liquor hadn't affected his common sense enough to keep him from trying to keep his friend from danger. It seemed he had overestimated the power of alcohol, or perhaps he was just comparing his state to that of Sam, who obviously couldn't hold her liquor.

Sam shook her head as they reached the place where they were supposed to split up. "Nah, Din-Dan, I can go myself. Thinks." With that, she abruptly moved herself from his support and staggered the remaining two feet to the stop sign, stopping to cling to the pole so she wouldn't fall. "See, Dunny? I'm jus' fine." She pushed herself off the sign and began hobbling in the opposite direction of her home. "See ya!"

Danny sprinted forward when he saw Sam losing what remained of her balance and caught her by the upper arms before she toppled to the ground. "Yea, I'm definitely taking you home."

Sam tilted her head back so she could see him. "Okay, Hero."

Danny smiled exasperatedly at his friend and at the uncanny nickname. He had a feeling Sam always felt like she was dealing with a slightly backward child when she was with him, and now, the tables had turned; for once, _Danny_ was the mature one!

A walk to Sam's house had never been as grueling. Of course, the countless other walks had not entailed Sam tripping over her own feet, Sam muttering muddled sentences, Sam pausing to throw up in the bushes, Sam barking at the dogs that barked back as they passed, Sam yelling for the sleeping townspeople to wake up, Sam howling at the moon, or Sam laughing too loudly and too hysterically for one-thirty in the morning. Danny found himself thoroughly worn out by the time they reached the lattice to Sam's room, which also happened to be the moment he grasped that they could have just flown and cut the time it took to get to the house in half. He groaned aloud at his stupidity, realizing, with a smack to his forehead, that the alcohol he had consumed had had some effect after all.

Regardless of his idiocy, Danny looked at Sam, who was beginning to endeavor climbing the lattice (a bad, _bad_ idea in her current state), and hurried to pull her down. "I'll just fly you up," he said quietly, keeping his arms wrapped securely around her as he went ghost and began floating upward.

Sam relaxed in Danny's grip, and he felt a smile cross his lips, though he couldn't place why her reaction to flying made him so happy, just as it had two years before.

When the pair landed on the veranda, Sam had nestled into Danny's chest, and, not wanting to stop this, for some unknown reason, Danny phased through the wall with her still in his arms. Gently, Danny pried Sam away from him. "We're here," he announced almost grudgingly.

Sam smiled at him, with an innocent, laughing grin that lit up her features. She took his hand and sprinted to her bed, throwing herself on it and pulling Danny down next to her.

Danny felt beyond comfortable as he faded from his ghost form and back into Danny Fenton. It must have been heaven to be rich because there had never been a softer bed made, he was sure. He closed his eyes with a sigh as he sank into the fabric of Sam's black comforter.

"Danny," Sam whispered, sounding slightly soberer and jerking Danny from his stupor.

Danny opened his eyes and rolled on his side to face her. "Yea?" he asked, promising himself he would leave as soon as Sam had said what she wanted to say. Of course, it's a known fact that promises are made to be broken.

Sam, rather unfortunately, moved closer to Danny and snuggled up next to him, a contented smile on her face. "Danny, I love you," she murmured into his shirt, sounding self-conscious despite her intoxication.

Danny's eyes widened, but he reasoned that she had meant that she loved him as a friend in a wholesomely platonic manner, and that statement was her way of thanking him for walking her home. "I-uh-I love you, too, Sam," he replied, but he unexpectedly sensed that he was feeling an entirely non-platonic kind of love for the girl resting in his arms. "I should go," he said nervously upon this revelation, starting to pull away.

"Don't," Sam mumbled, moving closer.

Danny closed his eyes, feeling some kind of unwanted bliss at having Sam so near. "My parents-"

Sam tilted her head up slightly and silenced him with a kiss. Danny began to react, kissing back, but he recollected with a jolt that she was Drunk Sam, and he was Sober Danny; it would be wrong for him to kiss her like this in her illogical state, when she didn't know what she was doing. He pulled away subtly, moving so his chin rested on top of Sam's head. He wouldn't leave until the morning because Sam didn't want him to, but he was going to have to control his suddenly raging hormones.

**A/N: Ah, cursed hormones. I hope you enjoyed the first part of this story. Stay tuned for Part II!**


	2. Part II

**A/N: I know, I know. It took me WAY too long to get Part II posted, but here it is. Enjoy.**

Part II

Sam was unnaturally warm, even though she could feel how cold it was in the rest of the room. Her eyes drifted open and met the white cotton of a T-shirt. It was then that she felt the agonizing pain and nausea of her first hangover. Vaulting from her bed, she ran to the bathroom, just in time to make it to the toilet and spare herself the difficulty of having to clean up the mess that would have been left if she hadn't. She finished her business and reached out to flush the toilet. She balanced herself on her heels, clutching her stomach and hanging her throbbing head.

What had happened the night before? She couldn't recall a thing, and that scared the living daylight out of her. Luckily, she had ended up in her own bed and not that of someone she didn't know. But what was with the white cotton?

Standing up slowly, so as not to further agitate her rattled body, Sam checked her appearance in the mirror, nearly laughing aloud at what she saw. Still, she was clothed in the black attire she had picked for the night before; her eyeliner was smudged; and her hair was a birds' nest. She brushed her hair straight, regrettably adding more pain to her already pounding head. Next, she washed the makeup from her eyes, sighing with relief when she appeared semi-normal-looking. She brushed her teeth to get rid of the remaining alcohol flavor. Now, she just had to ditch the clothes, slip into some pajamas, and go back to sleep to pretend like she had never been to a party.

She exited the bathroom after taking a painkiller, about to shed herself of her day-old clothing, but she paused when she saw the boy in the white cotton tee sleeping in her bed. _Danny._

Sam stepped forward, examining his sleeping form. His messy hair hung in his eyes, and he was lying on his side, one arm, that had no doubt been the one encompassing Sam and keeping her from the cold, flung in front of him.

She smiled at him, a smile meant for no one _but_ him, a smile that he would probably never see unless she told him how she felt. Her heart beat solemnly, and she moved to sit on the bed, glancing at the clock to find it was merely half past six in the morning.

Yawning, Sam reclined on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She didn't have any idea why Danny was in her bed instead of back at his house, but his presence gave her a pleasant feeling. It wasn't long before she drifted back to sleep.

There was a quiet rapping at the balcony door, and Sam's eyes shot open. Once again, she was in Danny's arms, and she sighed with remorse as she left them. She was glad to note that her headache had eased to a dull throbbing in her temple. "Tucker?" she whispered as she opened the door.

Tucker was standing on the balcony, cradling a videogame in his arms. "Sam, this is the _best_ game ever!" Tucker exclaimed, his bloodshot eyes proving that he had indeed played the game for hours on end after he had gotten it. Seeing the blank look on Sam's face, he frowned. "You _did_ tell me to bring it over after I beat it; right?" he asked.

Sam glanced back into her bedroom at a sleeping Danny. "Uh, yea. I think so," she replied distractedly.

Tucker peeked over her shoulder and caught sight of Danny, his gaze coming back to hers in shock. "I didn't think you'd actually tell him!" he admitted, lowering his voice, in spite of his excitement.

Sam rolled her eyes. "I didn't. I don't know _why_ he's here," she stated ruefully. "He sleeps like a log though. That's probably his version of a hangover." She looked back into her room again, a tender smile adorning her lips. "Why aren't _you_ hung over?" she asked curiously.

"I only had that first drink. It was nasty. I don't know how you were able to drink more of it," Tucker declared with a disgusted look.

Sam moaned. "I wish I hadn't."

"Well, I should get going. Here." Tucker handed Sam the game, turning to leave. At the edge of the balcony, he looked back with a witty leer. "And you _should_ tell him," he repeated. With that, he began descending the lattice.

Sam was about to close the door when she heard a thump and a muffled, "Ow!" She laughed and entered her room.

The door slammed shut louder than intended, and Danny's eyes flew open. He looked around disjointedly for a few seconds before spotting Sam. He relaxed and grinned at her sheepishly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Hey," he said.

Sam smiled. "Hey."

Danny looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Around noon. You sleep like a rock," Sam replied with a laugh. "What happened last night?"

"You mean this morning," Danny corrected teasingly. "You got unbelievably drunk," he affirmed simply.

Sam chuckled. "Yea, I can feel it. Anything else?"

Danny shrugged. "I had to walk you home, so you wouldn't get hurt or anything-"

"My hero," Sam joked.

Danny gave her a wan smile. "That's what you said this morning. You-uh-didn't want me to leave; so, I stayed," he concluded. He wasn't about to mention the kiss. _It would be too awkward_ he assured himself.

Sam sighed. "I don't remember _anything_, which is kind of freaky," she confessed.

"Well, I read somewhere that alcohol does that to a lot of people," Danny said as a way of comforting her.

"It's still weird." Sam walked over to the bed and sat down near Danny's feet. "Listen, Danny, I-um-have something I need to tell you," she said tentatively. "I-"

"Wait," Danny interjected. He had to get it off his chest. "Last night . . ." He cleared his throat. "Last night, you told me you loved me-" He paused upon seeing her stunned looked. "I mean, I'm sure you meant just as a friend and not as anything else," he pressed forward, surprised at the way his hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists as he rambled on. "But even though you were drunk, you still sounded really nervous and unsure of yourself, and I just want to make sure that you know that I love you, too!" He finished his last words with a gasp for air.

There was a short silence on Sam's part as Danny tried to regain his breath.

"Just as a friend," Sam repeated levelly.

Danny caught the flash of pain in her eyes, and a butterfly of hope fluttered in his mind. "Yea," he lied slowly, watching her every move.

Sam let her hair fall in her eyes, trying in vain to mask the emotions she was feeling. "That's great!" she finally responded a tad too cheerily, though the hoarseness from restraining unshed tears disclosed the insincerity of that cheeriness. She coughed, looking up. "Tucker brought over his new game," she stated, venturing onto safe ground as she held up the game. One glance at Danny's befuddled expression, however, yanked her back to where the Earth was crumbling beneath her feet.

Danny began standing, nodding. "I should probably go then and let you play it," he suggested.

Sam bit her lip. "Yea." She got up to follow Danny onto the balcony. "Danny," she said just as he was going ghost. He turned to look at her. "Could you just wait a second? I have to make a call."

Danny Phantom gave her a quizzical look but shrugged. "Yea, sure." He flashed her one of his trademark grins that melted her shattered heart.

Sam fled into her room, before her weak knees could betray her, and pulled her cell phone out her pocket, pressing the speed dial for Tucker's number. He would know what to do; he always seemed to know.

As the phone rang, Sam sat down on her bed and watched Danny waiting outside her room, trying her best to keep a sappy smile from her face as the sun glinted off his white hair. _Think platonic love._

"Hello?" Tucker's voice called over the phone.

"Hey, Tuck. He said he loves me as a friend," Sam began without preamble.

"So, you told him?" Tucker asked skeptically.

"Well, not exactly, but-"

"Sam! You _need_ to _tell him_. He's not gonna say anything about how he really feels-and I _know_ how he really feels-if he doesn't know how _you_ feel first! He's _Danny_!" Tucker interrupted with passion.

"I . . . I can't," Sam conceded. "He said-"

"I don't _care_ what he said! You have to _fight_ for what you want! For example, this morning, at two a.m. sharp, I _wanted_ Death Force 7. If I hadn't _fought_ past those yelling, psychopath gamers-" He paused in reminiscence. "-and to the counter, I would never have been able to virtually kill people for eight hours straight. Now-"

"Tucker," Sam interposed, "are you on drugs?"

"No, Sam, I'm not on drugs," Tucker replied seriously. "I'm just _sick_ and _tired_ of watching you fall deeper and deeper in love with Danny and not do _anything_ about it! Even if he says he _hates_ you, you need to _fight_ and let him know that that is _not_ acceptable!"

There was a noiseless pause over the phone line.

"Dammit, Tucker, you're right!" Sam cried suddenly, with a hint of incredulity in her voice. "I'm telling him!" She was about to snap the flip-phone shut, but she paused and put it back to her ear. "And thanks. You're a lifesaver."

"It's what I do," Tucker responded solemnly. "Now _go_!"

"Right." Sam hung up and tossed the phone on the bed decisively. She stood up and walked briskly to the balcony door.

Danny was standing with his back to the door, staring out at the cityscape. Sam reached him and touched his hand, and he pivoted to face her. She put her hands on his shoulders, and as she pressed her lips to his, he changed back into Danny Fenton. Just as he began to kiss back, she contritely pulled away. "Danny," she started, trying to rid her voice of its breathless tone, "just as a friend isn't good enough."

She was surprised to see the relief in Danny's blue eyes. "Thank God you said that," he muttered, drawing her into his arms. "I knew _I_ wasn't brave enough to say it. You're my hero."

Sam recalled how close she had been to giving up on everything, shaking her head. "You should be thanking Tucker; he's the real hero."

Danny backed up a step and held her at arm's length. "What?" he asked confusedly.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "_Please_ don't make me explain right now," she begged, stepping forward for another kiss, and it must be said that at that point in time, Danny had no intention of trying to continue the conversation because, frankly, with Sam in his arms, he couldn't care less who the hero that had saved them was.

**A/N: And that's it. A tribute to the under-appreciated. Review if you like.**


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